


To Seek A Foe

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, I just really want Derek and Chris to be good friends okay, after the conclusion of Season 3B, major 3B spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4287990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dealing with the nogitsune and the recent death of his daughter has taken an immense toll on Christopher Argent. And there is probably only one person who can really understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stalemate

Derek Hale and Christopher Argent stare coldly at one another. Both have lost so much in the line of fire; family killing family. Kate and Peter, two of a kind, tearing each other apart as (and after) the Hale house burned to the ground and Chris could do nothing to stop it. Each of the men is united, now, in their acceptance of and friendship with Scott. And that dual friendship has catapulted them together in a fierce race to stop the nogitsune that has made itself a beach-head residence inside the psyche of Stiles.

*~/

Chris has kept to the code; he has always kept to the code. Even to his daughter’s new one: helping those that are unable to help themselves. No matter whether he had any doubts about his and his daughter’s ability to stay out of battles after his wife’s death (because of Derek which happened in turn as a result of her attempt to kill Scott)–he does not stubbornly refuse to be on the right side, as Agent McCall does with Sheriff Stilinski—Argent can compartmentalize his emotions for the greater good and in order to do what must be done. He does have some grudging respect for Derek, his ability to fight tooth-and-nail without thinking, putting his reactions ahead of his emotions. Argent cannot always do that; case in point: when his wife . . . when she’d used that knife to stab herself and had asked him for his help, he had nearly been unable to do it. He contains his emotions, yet he still feels them; they burn through his insides like fire, gutting him almost every day, but he does not allow that to show, to bubble up and bleed over onto his daughter and everyone else in the community. He remains sharp and fierce and strong even as intense feelings sometimes hourly threaten to tear him apart.

 

Derek feels a sharp hot stab of anger in his chest as he looks into Argent’s icy pale eyes; as much as he tells himself that it was Kate’s fault, that she alone had taken their sociopathic father Gerard’s hunting lessons to heart—what heart? Her chest was obviously as unfeeling and solid as stone—he cannot help the ire seeping into his voice and stance as he stands here across from Chris . . . but then in another moment he thinks of Scott, the decent kind young man who isn’t afraid to ask even those he may not like for help when he doesn’t know exactly how to do something. Derek feels ashamed. How can this kid, who has been a werewolf for less than 3 years, continually teach he who has had this burdensome power for his entire life? He senses something too, in this distant man: a shred of respect for him, Derek Hale, who has distanced himself from everyone because he could not see the benefits of emotional attachment—everyone who meant something to him has gotten hurt, one way or another. He himself has been hurt too by this loss of attachment; but studying Argent now, Derek sees a divergent path from the one he has taken for so long. If he allows himself to feel moderately rather than shutting off every emotion so fiercely that each one has the potential to explode with unimaginable, detrimental force onto the object of his attraction or affection—cases in point: a long time ago when he loved Paige and couldn’t comprehend losing her, so (after the poorly-given advice from Peter) he did the one thing that made him irrevocably lose her; Kate Argent, of course; Jennifer Blake; and then with his bullheaded resolve to find his older sister Laura and later to save his younger sister Cora—if he can learn to control feelings like this, the way Chris Argent does, he will be able to lead a better life. 

 

The two men have the capability to become allies; for the sake of Scott and Stiles, for the good of the world and of every benign supernatural creature who has made their home in Beacon Hills . . . however: “Don’t expect me to risk my life to save yours,” Derek said cuttingly to Chris in the sheriff’s station. Minutes later the explosion of a letter/package bomb induced the once-more-beta werewolf to yell “Get down!” before wrapping his lean scarred body around Christopher Argent’s torso, neck, and head to force him down to the ground; the glass blew itself out of its window mold and into Derek’s back, twisting diamond-like shards into his flesh, impaling him as Kali had been impaled by her erstwhile druid emissary Julia. “Derek,” Chris said wonderingly as he steadied the weaving werewolf (who fumblingly insisted that he was all right) “you just saved my life.” Derek doesn’t give a reply to the statement; he doesn’t have to. This is his way of telling Chris he trusts him; that he is forgiven; that Derek now counts him as an ally in the never-ending fight—and since there is no possibility of regression to the mean in Beacon Hills, Derek will decide to come to Argent at Stiles’ insistence, the werewolf’s palms sweating and face pale, to stammer out that they have a problem—especially now that the bitch is back. Kate Argent, whom everyone thought was dead by Peter’s sadistic hand, was turned into a blue leopard-like creature (similar to a werewolf in her immense strength and ability to shift, but her eyes turn gamma-ray green rather than searing blue). And that can’t be because she is any less complicit in killing innocents than Peter. Chris cannot believe it, he has so many emotions roiling inside of him at the thought of his little sister who had gone so far wrong; he remembers her decision to tell Allison about hunting . . . against his express wishes. Yet if she hadn’t told his daughter about the life, Allison would not have been able to save her friends from the nogitsune and its oni. No matter what the cost was—and, oh, it was so high, so unbearably, terribly high—he finds himself thankful for the fact that his daughter learned so much in order to protect others, and that she had even been able to lead him in a positive direction. Kate did something good. And Derek continues to attempt to do good things. Chris sees that. He also recognizes, raging through Derek’s innards, the intense, terrible, and almost crippling loneliness that he feels as well. 

 

From Scott, Derek knows about Allison’s remarkable death, which still left her the ability to save and protect her friends. He regrets his hatred for the Argent family that kept them from becoming strong allies before this point. But now—now he can remedy that. All of it. Standing outside Chris’s apartment door, Derek readies himself to ring the bell. Almost. Then he stops, curses, and is about to try again when the door bangs open and Christopher Argent is standing there, staring. Derek turns to leave. “Derek.” Chris’ voice is firm yet flat, oh-so-flat. “What do you want?” 

Blurting out, “I cooked this casserole for you. It probably tastes like shit, but my mom—she always said to make food for families of the dead . . . and wolves, we take care of our own.” Derek feels stupid, so, so stupid. This is presumptuous asshattery. 

He waits for Chris to punch or shoot him, but the hunter takes the dish, says, “Thank you,” and invites him in. The Hale almost refuses, until he thinks: this is probably the first time in about twenty years the guy has had to face the concept of eating dinner alone. Scary stuff for him to have to bear, and just as scary for Derek to put himself out in an effort to care. There is a shared core of vulnerability here. Recognizing this, he follows the older man into the kitchen and then across the tiny hall to eat in the family room. Argent carefully avoids both the kitchen table and the study with his desk, which are two strong reminders of Allison. 

Derek realizes that he, as the visitor who’d inserted himself inside Chris’ physical as well as his emotional barriers, has to speak first. So he begins to talk about his plans for improving and remodeling his loft—especially since the oni busted it up—shit. Bad topic. He veers away to the subject of his little sister Cora, who he’d taken back to South America earlier in the year. “She’ll be safer down there, but I miss her like hell.” Oh no, he’s probably reminded Chris about how much he misses Allison. “I’m sorry; I can’t say anything right, can I?” 

He means to rise, to respect Chris Argent’s space by leaving him alone with his grief, but: “No. it’s all right. Sit back down, Derek. I probably. . . need . . . to talk about it. People aren’t meant to—internalize grief.” 

No; “Only compartmentalize it, right? I don’t know how you do that, Chris. I mean, I admire it like crazy, I just don’t understand it.” 

Chris laughs brokenly. “Nor do I, really.” He says quietly. “It’s just something that hunters must learn to do.” He has started shaking. “But right now, I—” his voice stopping completely, Chris claws the air in front of him with one fist. “—I just can’t. She was so young, barely a woman; just that night officially a hunter. And now she’s gone. I feel as if I’d only barely known my daughter, Derek. Eighteen years is too short. I’d only been able to stop mourning her mother because Allison was still here. Now—and now I’ve lost her too.” The shakes have turned into sobs, nearly silent heaves that make him raise his hands shakily to cover his lips, to stop—what is it? He feels as though his soul, his very self is falling out. For what am I without my family?!? Chris wonders wildly. He is rather like Isaac in that regard, but even more like the man beside him now, who has placed both of their dinner plates back on the kitchen counter. Derek returns and sits closer to Chris with his strong young frame supporting the hunter’s shuddering shoulders. Chris leans momentarily into Derek’s side like a little kid. When he moves away and wipes his eyes, the Hale remains. 

“Can I—would you like me to share some of your pain?” he asks now. Argent shakes his head no. “It’s crushing you. Please let me help.” Derek squeezes the father’s hand when he doesn’t immediately respond. The rush of grief is so instantly palpable it nearly stops Derek’s heart. Black spots float in front of his eyes before he swallows and breathes. He doesn’t want to devalue the pain by taking it away entirely, and so only smooths out the jagged edges of the other’s grief. “Come with me for a minute,” Derek says after a quiet instant listening to both of their hearts beating together. “I want us to try something.” Chris looks up at him, a flash of suspicion flickering in his gaze for a single second. Oddly enough, this lightens Derek’s heart. He smiles. “Do you really not trust me, Chris? Still?” 

Chris’ mouth twists into a hard little grin. “I suppose I must, and I do.” 

Derek nods at him. “Good. Is there a way up to the roof from anywhere on this floor?” 

The hunter nods. “It’s not common knowledge, but I managed to procure this building’s blueprints.” He leads Derek out of the apartment.

The Hale lets out a snort. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he mutters. Chris barks out a laugh as they lever open the cold thick metal door that the electricians use and step out onto the roof. A chill wind slices through their shirts, but these two men are used to such discomfort. Derek comes to stand a few feet from the edge of the roof. He looks over and back at Argent before detailing his idea. “I want to lend you my voice to let out your grief. Wolves have the powerful blessing to do this with their howls, but for humans, well, it obviously isn’t possible. If I can link myself to you it’ll be just like me sharing your pain, only more of an extension. I want to do it as a memorial for Allison. Is that okay?” Chris cannot speak past the lump that has lodged itself in his throat. He can only nod with his eyes full of tears. Derek steps back and gently yet firmly clasps the older man’s shoulder. “Feel free to scream along with me,” Derek adds quietly. 

Ready, set, go—Chris bows his head and closes his eyes as Derek opens his ice-blue beta ones and howls.


	2. Rallying Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sample of several meetings.

They meet several times after this to go over strategies as well as to compare notes. And though neither one will admit it, they may have other reasons. It’s certainly nice to be around someone who has had similar life experiences. Neither one needs to hide the true extent of their emotions.

One of these meetings begins with the two men drinking bourbon and talking about Kate, and ends when Derek unceremoniously shatters his glass on the floor and Chris has to quickly incapacitate him, because a drunken werewolf is an angry uninhibited werewolf.

 

Another time has them drinking coffee together at a coffeehouse a ways from town, so both of them are instantly alert when Sheriff Stilinski walks in. He doesn’t seem to be on the hunt for either one of them, however—he’s not even wearing his gun or badge. Instead he has on a sky-blue button-down shirt. Before either Chris or Derek make any attempts to figure his civilian attire out, Nurse Melissa McCall walks in not wearing scrubs, and there is a synchronized click in both men’s brains. The sheriff and the nurse are on a date! Chris resumes his professional attitude, pinpointing a place on a map of the county that he thinks Kate might return to if she’s really back, but Derek is not put off the scent as easily, so to speak. “Stilinski and McCall are dating,” he mutters across the table to Chris. “Do you think Scott and Stiles know about this?” 

Argent gives him a deluxe frosty stare. “From the looks of things, I would imagine not. Why else would they both be this far from town, coming in separate cars, and wearing civilian clothes?” 

Derek snorts in disbelief. “They’re taking this a little too seriously, don’t you think? I mean, their children are SCOTT and STILES. Those kids would be the least likely to mind if their parents started hooking up. Since they’re such good friends, I’d think they’d actually be thrilled.” Chris Argent sighs heavily and taps his pen with his fingers. 

“Listen, Derek. Suppose they ARE thrilled when things first get going, but then something happens, and their parents split up? I’m not going to assume whether a separation would be either one’s fault; maybe it would be amicable, but their teenage sons might not be able to look at it that way. If it came down to it, who would YOU be more loyal to? Your best friend, or your father or mother?” Derek looks down at the table and shrugs. 

“I see your point there. But what am I supposed to say if Scott asks me anything about his mother?” Chris barks out a laugh at this and the werewolf glares. 

“Oh come on, Derek, when has Scott ever asked YOU a question about HIS family? Why would he ever need to?” He has a point there. Derek can admit it, which is a fact that he still finds remarkable, seeing as for the longest time he thought every single member of the Argent clan was out to kill him. (Of course, at one point they WERE, but that was before Chris and Allison each had all of the information). 

It was Gerard and Kate and Peter who kept secrets from their families and almost cost their lives. This makes Derek ponder how similar he and Chris really are, and how Peter and Kate are two sides of the same coin. A very demented fucked-up sadistic sociopathic coin, but a coin nevertheless. That is a ridiculous metaphor, Derek decides, and when he focuses on Chris’s face again, he realizes that the hunter is staring at him. “Derek,” Chris intones quietly, “Are you all right? Because you’ve been glaring at me like you want to rip my throat out, and I really thought we were past all that. I'm not your enemy anymore.” Derek realizes that his claws are out and he is making deep divots into the wood of their booth’s table. He jerks his hands into his lap as Chris raises an eyebrow. “Care to share what’s on your mind?” Derek takes a deep breath through his nose and holds it there for a five second count. 

“Your sister, actually,” he snarls. 

Chris nods. “Apt, since that IS who we’re searching for.” 

"And my uncle Peter.” 

Oh, well that is slightly surprising. “Have you heard from him?” 

Derek shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that. I’ve been realizing how similar Kate is to him, and how close he’s always been to me. It’s pretty terrifying.” Chris purses his lips and nods. 

“Ah. Yes, I’ve thought about that too. We both must be hard-wired to deal with psychotic family members, eh?” Yeah. 

“Even if we don’t trust them. I don’t trust Peter as far as I can throw him; not in the least because he just won’t stay dead! I should’ve seen the similarities in their temperaments beforehand, even when we were younger, before the fire . . .” But he never put two and two together. 

“I should have realized it as well,” Chris says softly. “This isn’t your fault as much as it is mine.” Derek stares incredulously at him. 

“How do you figure that, Argent?” Chris puts down his pen and presses his fingers into his temples wearily. 

“Because Kate is my little sister. I should have guided her. I had a big say in helping her grow up; I saw her becoming ever more ruthless, and I turned a blind eye to it. I let my father weave his sadistic way into her head, and I didn’t do anything to stop it. I never once said, ‘hey Kate, why don’t you stop and think about what you’re doing for a minute’. I didn’t try to change her until it was too late. Far too late. Your uncle may have been your best friend, but he was older than you. It wasn’t your responsibility to forcibly change him, not like it was mine to mold her.” 

Derek is shaking his head, frustrated. “But I could have warned my mother about him,” he whispers brokenly. “It was Kate who started the fire, but I—I had to have seen the warning signs in her personality. If I’d paid closer attention . . . I would have known she was just like my uncle. She had her own agenda, her own desires and goals that were never going to benefit anyone else apart from her. I had seen that with Peter time and time again. And I still did nothing to stop him.” For a while, Christopher Argent says nothing. It amazes Derek how this man is so similar to him in so many ways. 

Then Argent leans forward and whispers, “That’s the point, Derek. Now you know who these two are because of what they did. And you are attuned to it so you will never stand by and allow anything like that to happen ever again. And I am the same.” He smiles wryly. “Who says those who can’t do become the teachers?” Derek smiles. 

“Not me. I’d say instead they become mucho badass doers.” 

Chris smiles at him proudly. “That’s my boy. THAT is the Derek Hale I’m used to.”


	3. Coexistence

A week or two after the initial dinner was brought to Chris Argent by Derek Hale, the werewolf gets a message on his phone. “Derek? It’s Chris. I’d like to request a favor from you. As if I haven’t begged enough favors already . . .” there is a cough, a clearing of the throat. Derek nearly smiles. Asking for help does not come naturally to Chris Argent. Yet another thing they have in common. “Anyway, it’s Allison. I’ve been trying to pack up all of her things to put them in storage until . . . later. I’ve asked Isaac for his help, and he has also enlisted Scott for moral support—or whatever teenage boys call it.” There is a pause. “That’s what I call it, though. I need moral support from you, Derek. And I hope you’ll be willing to give it. Come to the apartment around 4 o’clock if you can. And thank you.” The message ends, and Derek rubs his phone against his scruffy chin absentmindedly for a moment before grabbing his jacket and texting Scott. He doesn’t want it to be too much of a shock to the teens when he gets there. This way, he’ll (hopefully) be spared from answering any awkward questions. He’s doing this for Chris, after all.

 

It’s Isaac who opens up the door for him. He obviously hadn’t believed Scott’s comment about Derek coming to lend a hand with the packing and storing. Isaac, who he’d never managed to apologize to after kicking him out of the loft; Isaac, who’d been blowing like a leaf in the wind between Scott and the Argents for a bit, and when he was finally willing to open up to them, to really put himself out there and work with and learn from them, Allison had been killed. Derek is sorry for that, for the vulnerability ever-present in Isaac, and for his own stubbornness and dislike of apologies that will not allow him to express regret for throwing the kid out of his pack. Isaac just stares at Derek and crosses his arms. Derek feels as if he is going to have to start pleading just to enter the house, when through the hallway behind Isaac walks Chris. 

“Derek,” the older man says, relief saturating his voice, “you got my message.” Isaac looks over his shoulder in surprise, like someone actually called Derek to be NICE? And he showed up?! Derek nearly smirks before he realizes that would probably not be the best idea at this time. 

So all he says when sticking out his hand to shake Argent’s is, “Yep. I’m here to help. Where are the heavy boxes?” He sidesteps around Isaac—who still hasn’t moved from the spot where he stands in front of the door—and Chris is nodding over at Scott, who has been carefully placing things into a crate. 

“Derek,” Scott says immediately, coming up with sincere gladness on his face at the sight of the older werewolf, “It’s good to see you.” He means it, too, and Derek is momentarily bamboozled at the complete and utter shift he has acquired in this young man’s estimation since they met 2 years ago. 

“Thanks, Scott. How’ve you been holding up?” because after looking into the teenager’s face, he sees some deep weariness there, more than he’s ever noticed before. Scott sighs slightly. 

“Not the greatest, actually. I haven’t been sleeping much, but my mom has been taking care of me and I’ve got a best friend who knows exactly what that feels like.” Stiles. Derek can’t stop the smile that lifts the corners of his mouth. He too had asked advice of the hyperactive little twerp after Stiles’ whole experience with the nogitsune. Scott laughs at the look on Derek’s face, and that completely breaks the ice. They all begin moving and packing things in (mostly) companionable silence.

 

Chris has enlisted Derek to carry larger things, like chairs and couches; apparently he’s not only putting in storage the things that remind him of Allison—he looks as if he plans to move away. Derek says nothing of this immediately because he doesn’t know if Chris would appreciate any probing questions, and instead watches the two young werewolves. Isaac takes cues from Scott, he notices. When something looks like it’s going to be too much for him to handle—for example, when he gets ahold of one of Allison’s throwing knives—Scott puts a gentle hand on Isaac’s shoulder and speaks to him in a quiet voice, which releases some of the tension from the beta werewolf. Derek is impressed by this. He’d been a teaching alpha, more focused on actions than emotions, but Scott McCall has always been in tune with the latter, and if he doesn’t always know the exact right thing to say, he is at least willing to try. Derek himself would rather stay silent than risk articulating something bad. At least, with most people. 

Somehow Christopher Argent has gotten past that part of him, though. The two men are in the kitchen, washing and wrapping up plates, cups, and bowls while the younger guys are working diligently in Allison’s bedroom. Chris hadn’t wanted to start in there, and Derek doesn’t blame him. When the Argent patriarch drops a plate and leans heavily against the sink, though, the Hale moves into action. He bends down to look up into Chris’s eyes, working as an anchor to keep the hunter from going to pieces. “You’re okay, Chris,” he says. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this plate.”

When he takes the drying rag from one of Chris’s shaking hands, the hunter seems to go boneless, sliding down to sit with his back pressed against the cupboards, composure barely in place. “I’m sorry,” he mutters through those hands with which he has covered his face when Derek crouches in front of him. Derek shakes his head compassionately. 

“You don’t need to apologize to me. I understand—a little—what you’re going through. Same thing happened when I was getting some stuff together for Laura, after—after we thought everyone else was dead. Before we knew about Peter. There wasn’t a lot left other than the house’s shell” after the fire Kate lit, but Derek doesn’t have to say this anymore, because he’s through blaming Chris for that with constant reiteration and condemnation. He only wants this man to know that Derek is here for him, and before he has a chance to think about it, he blurts out, “You can stay in the loft with me if you need somewhere to go after moving out of here.” Chris stiffens at this, which makes Derek freeze in uncertainty. 

Then the older man sighs and drops his hands between his knees. “You figured it out already, huh?” A tiny smile twists his mouth. “Must be that werewolf intuition.” Derek straightens up and just looks at him with one eyebrow raised slightly, waiting for the man to respond to his offer. Chris is touched by these things, both the offer itself and Derek’s stolid silence after he makes it. He isn’t taking the outburst back, which makes Argent figure that he actually means it. He would be willing to not only work closely with his former enemy, but is now willing to live in the same space as he in order to . . . help him? It is a revelation to the hunter, both that he actually seems as though he needs help and that he is willing to think about accepting that help. From Derek Hale, no less. This day has been full of surprises, first that Chris convinced himself to call Derek for support, then that Derek actually showed up to help, and now that he is not taking any of Chris’ bullshit and has offered to live with him—not for any reason other than to help Chris heal. He sees Derek extend a hand to help him up, and as he grasps hold of the werewolf’s arm, he puts himself in the position of willingly and gratefully accepting the other man’s aid. “Thank you, Derek,” he says quietly. “I truly appreciate that.” They pack up the rest of the dishes before Chris eventually asks, “Do you need me to pay any rent?” Derek chuckles. 

“No, I just need to know if you’re willing to buy groceries and actually like to cook. That dinner I brought you was a one-time thing.” A genuine smile splits Argent’s face. 

“Deal.”

 

These two men have seen and gone through so much together, it only makes sense for them to coexist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this piece is from a seldom-quoted conversation in Romeo and Juliet, between Lord and Lady Montague in Act I, Scene i: "MONTAGUE- Thou villain Capulet! [to his wife] --Hold me not, let me go. LADY MONTAGUE- Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe."
> 
> I would like thank the creator, director(s), cast, and crew of the TV show Teen Wolf for giving me yet ANOTHER piece of pop culture to obsess about.
> 
> JR Bourne and Tyler Hoechlin are wonderful human beings. ;D


End file.
